Final Tour of Duty**

* Sexy Seal
**Funky Fish
***Wacky Whale
****Cocky Cod
*****Mental Monkfish


So there we were in the New Madeira Hotel, just up from Brighton Pier staggering out of The Funky Fish, the hotel's in-residence Soul 'n' Motown nightclub, trying to avoid John, the over-zealous lisp-on-speed night porter. All of life's wonders are in Brighton alright. The whole town is an end-of-the pier menagerie, from the gay bondage boutiques to dainty tea shops, nightclubs, bars and pubs. Fewer bars, more car parks I thought as I reved up Marine Parade. Yaxford it aint ("Yaxford!"). I parked in Morrisons car park overnight. I like to live dangerously.

On Friday we went to the pub, then the gastro pub, then more pubs looking like pub-going tourists (and with Chas trying to look over 18):

Barman: "When's your birthday?"

Chas: "Err, 20th August n-i-n-e-t-e-e-e-n-i-n-e-t-y-err

Barman: "No it's not"

That's what happen when you're 6 foot 5 inches with a baby face wearing a bright red cricket top. Not exactly innocuous. An he was too tall for the fun fair rides....

We had an enjoyable evening tying to get Slowman to wear a dog's collar and lead and be walked about as our personal gimp the following evening as a way of forfeiting the tour money he owes. But he said he'd been there and done that alreday. We weren't suprised.

Saturday and after a brief stroll around the pier and wathcing the 2nd Test off we drove to Amberley for a pre-match pub lunch. Cue strangest tour experience award, as a bunch of rugger buggers on a cycling holiday (eh?) one dressed as a white rabbit watched on as one of their horde stood on a chair and gave a full rendition of the William of Orange speech (with a Roman Catholic Primary School across the way). Really quite disorientating. I bet they come from Brighton.

Amberley were okay as a team I suppose. A bit devoid of humour, the outfield was a meadow and the pitch as soggy as the sandwiches we had for tea. I won the toss, inserted and they got 130 odd all out. Highlight was their number 6 bat hitting Jamie for 6 and crashing the ball into a neighbours (newly built) conservatory. Well done The Chair for his hat-trick.

With 4 overs to go I suddenly decided I no longer belonged here. It was raining on and off. It was gusting. I hadn't bowled well. And the constant piss-taking from The Juvenillia was becoming a distraction. When I checked my mobile at tea with news that I had to get back to London it was like divine intervention, it really was. I made my excuses and left. Ali tells me the game was easily won.

Now this is pure guesswork (as I wasn't there on Saturday night) but I bet it when something like this:

Back to the hotel.
Quick change.
Something to eat (a curry?).
Mini-pub crawl (probably re-visiting the Hand in Hand that was frequented on Friday).
Back to The Funky Fish.
Then late drinking in the hotel bar in to the early hours with Ali going AWOL and Johnny Slowman receiving with great pride the baton as tourist most able to provide the comic relief. And some fake tattoos perhaps.
And on-one got laid.

I hear we won the Sunday match with ease, so jolly well done one and all.

And with the tour hardly at and end already it has been decided that Eastbourne is the destination for next year. Excellent. I shall save this blog and re-post in 12 months time. All the events will probably be exactly the same.

So, it's the Ex-Captain's Blog from now on, having resigned the captaincy (and my Secretarial duties) to The Chairman today. You can't skipper on an occasional basis, with low credibility and (apparently) even lower ability. I know such things to be true. But I shall be available for the odd game in a Panther-esq kinda way. You know, if your short, just give me a call, if your short....

Over and out.

Nipples